This Year
by JennaBennett
Summary: A version of Christmas Party where Pam makes the right choice - with a little help from an unexpected friend.


The party is in full swing when it happens.

Michael has thrown their secret Santa into chaos and she's torn between the thoughtful practicality of Jim's teal teapot and Michael's ridiculously over-budget iPod.

C'mon, it's _an iPod_. It's not like it's really much of a choice. She's about to reach for the shiny overpriced iPod and shoot Jim an apologetic smile when – _there it is_.

Stanley snatches for the footbath and Kevin wretches it back. He grabs at it with far too much force and his hand and the box fly backwards.

Pam's not sure what exactly connects with the side of her face, but one moment she's seated and the next her head is connecting with the edge of Jim's desk and somewhere between there and the carpet she blacks out.

The last thing she registers before it's lights out is the flicker of disappointment in Jim's gaze as she outstretches her hand to demand the iPod from Dwight.

She misses the way his expression shifts to unbridled concern as her body slumps onto the floor with a sickening thud.

She misses that he's the first one to reach her side.

She misses the chaos that erupts as Kelly shrieks and Michael screeches and all attention turns to her.

If she knew, she'd be glad she misses the way Angela rolls her eyes and murmurs, "attention seeker," before heading to the break room in search of the first aid kit.

She'd also be glad to miss the sight of Dwight stripping his shirt from his body and thrusting it under her head.

She doesn't register any of it.

For a moment, everything is black.

Then she hears it, a soft childlike giggle. It's vaguely familiar, but her mind feels fuzzy, like she's hearing it through thirty layers of cotton candy.

There it is again. Slightly louder this time, like the child is getting closer. "_Pammy_," a voice whispers.

It's weird because no one has called her Pammy for years, apart from Roy and this definitely doesn't sound like him. Roy is not a _giggler_.

She just can't quite place it, but she's struck with how she _knows_ the voice. She strains the deepest recesses of her memory and comes up empty.

The darkness starts to fade. She opens her eyes and then narrows them sharply.

She's in the office and she's alone.

Seriously? Her co-workers are terrible people. Who just up and leaves a concussed person on the floor? She sits up easily, her head feels fine oddly enough, and scoffs loudly. How rude.

Honestly, she kinds of expects it from some of them. But her _best friend_ Jim? Pragmatic and sensible Oscar? Even bumbling, but ultimately kind-hearted Michael?

"Ridiculous," she murmurs to herself.

"Ouch. I think I look good," that same familiar voice flounces.

Pam pulls herself to her feet and finds herself feeling a lot steadier than she anticipated given how hard she just conked out.

"_Oh_," she gasps throwing her hand over her mouth as she spins to face the source of the chatter. "Am I _dead_?" she squeaks.

"Well, hello to you too," pouts Anna Sanderson, her twelve year old neighbor turned best friend who died suddenly and unexpectedly over a decade ago.

Pam sinks back to her knees. _Oh god._ Someone is going to have to explain to her mother that she died as a result of accidentally being bludgeoned by Kevin in the office. It's worse than a game of Cluedo.

"You're not dead," Anna chimes in. "I'm a little disappointed that you don't seem very excited to see me though," she crosses her arms with every bit of sass that Pam remembers her to possess. "They were going to send your great aunt Polly, but I insisted. Nobody wants a reunion with that old bag," she waves her hand dismissively.

Pam cringes at the recollection of Polly who had a certain harshness in her latter years that did nothing to endear herself to the younger relatives in her life. Her grief for Polly had been short lived, it had been more that she'd grieved the awareness that people she knew could die. Anna had been her first - and only - significant experience of death.

She softens slightly. "Oh Anna, it is so lovely to see you," she manages to bite back the _even though it means I'm going insane_. "Are you, uh, a ghost?"

Anna shrugs, "kinda."

Pam nods like that clears something up, even though it really doesn't.

"Enough about me," Anna sing-songs. "What's it like being a grown up, Pammy?"

She's overflowing with same energy that Pam remembers. Anna was always the chalk to her cheese. She was full of energy and extroversion and utter joy. Pam was a little on the quieter side. Their parents used to muse that they brought out the best in each other, Pam settled Anna ever so slightly and Anna pulled Pam from her shell just enough to approach the world with a little more confidence.

She'd tried to keep some of that bravery after she'd lost Anna.

"Pammy. Pam. Pamela," Anna has obviously grown frustrated with the time Pam is taking to reply. "What's it like?" her tone drops to a whisper, "to kiss a boy?" She wrinkles her nose, "it all looks a little gross if you ask me, unless he's really cute like Jonathan Taylor Thomas."

Pam stifles a giggle of her own and look maybe she is dead and her mind is playing weird tricks on her, but pre-teen Anna is exactly as she remembers her.

Boy does she miss her. She wishes she'd been around for the rest of their teenage years. Anna was still the first person she wanted to run and tell when Roy had asked her out. She was also the person she wanted to lament with when the date had been horrible and she'd been abandoned at a hockey game.

"Pammy, for the last time, you're not dead," she sighs dramatically. "I don't think you're going to believe me unless I show you," she grumbles more to herself than to Pam. "I guess we have to cut the reunion short and get to the whole shebang."

Pam eyes her warily, "the whole _shebang_?"

Anna twirls her hand, "yeah, it's why they sent me. At Christmas some people get the chance to make a choice or whatever." She shrugs. "You'll see."

"At Christmas?" Pam repeats cautiously. "Is the whole a shebang a Dickens thing? Are you the ghost of Christmas past?"

"Ugh, stop with the ghost thing. I prefer _angel_," Anna chuckles.

"Is that what you are?" Pam gasps.

Anna grins. "I'd look cute a halo, don't ya' think?" She winks and Pam's not sure if she's kidding or not. She continues to stare wide eyed. Anna waves a hand in front of her face. "It doesn't matter Pammy, and we're only going to the future."

"Why?"

Anna's hands find her hips. "You know, you went along with my plans without asking so many questions when we were kids."

Pam narrows her eyes. "Fine," Anna sighs. "You know the past, so boring. The present is so _predictable_. I mean you've had basically the exact same Christmas with Roy for the past like five years. So also super boring. The future is the only that's _interesting_." There's a twinkle in her eyes that reminds her that Anna was always getting them into trouble as kids.

She sweeps to Pam's side and twines their fingers together. "But first," she winks theatrically, with a bright, toothy smile and the room spins out from under them.

There's a flash of light and Pam is back in reality - except _she _isn't.

Her hand is still clasped with Anna's and they're perched on the edge of Jim's desk.

Pam, actual Pam, not this _dead-_Pam holding hands with her childhood best friend, is still crumpled on the floor.

Oscar is barking their address into a phone. "The paramedics should be here in ten," he informs their co-workers solemnly.

Jim is gripping her hand and murmuring, "Pam. Can you hear me. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

Michael, with arms crossed is glaring at Kevin.

"I just want to check that she's okay," Kevin whines.

"Nope. I'm making a citizens arrest. You murderer," Michael hisses.

"Michael. Pam is not deceased," Dwight is at her other side, gripping her wrist, fingers pressed to her pulse point.

"You know," Pam mutters to Anna. "This isn't making me feel less dead."

Her friend grins and nudges her, "look."

"_Her pulse is steady_," Dwight declares.

"Again, not necessarily the most reassuring thing in the world," she rolls her eyes at Anna.

"Oh fine, I'll just show you I guess."

The room started to spin once again. Another flash of bright warmth. She blinks her eyes open and Toto they aren't in the office anymore.

They're standing in the snow, outside a house that Pam doesn't recognize. Christmas lights flicker from the awnings. A car pulls carefully into the drive. As the engine extinguishes she watches herself step from the passenger seat. She knows it's her, but she looks different. Her hair is pulled into looser, bigger curls. There is less frizz and kudos to this version of herself who clearly has it under control. There are other changes, a few more lines in her face. She is older.

Actual-Pam turns to Anna, "...what is this?"

"It's the future!" Anna is beaming with excitement. "If you want it to be."

"Ooo-kay," she sure hopes those paramedics Oscar was calling got to her soon because she was clearly losing her damn mind.

"Just watch," Anna quirks a brow.

The back doors of the car shoot open.

"Phillip, help your father with the presents!" the older version of herself instructs.

"Yes, mom," the brown-eyed little boy replies bounding to the trunk.

She can't help but stare. "He's mine?" she whispers to Anna.

"Yeppers, and so is she," Anna replies jerking her thumb at the other side of the car where a curly haired girl is emerging.

"Oh," Pam gasps. She was beautiful and her eyes looked so familiar. It took a moment for her to register why.

They were an exact replica of someone she knew…

The driver's door snapped open and her gaze whipped to it as her what she already knew was confirmed. _Jim Halpert _stood from the car.

She feels her breath catch in her chest which is stupid because she probably wasn't even breathing at all anymore and who needs oxygen when you're dead?

"Oh," she gasps softly again.

Anna bounces at her side. "He's dreamy," she states.

Pam was inclined to agree which was weird because she didn't really think of Jim that way. Or at least, she didn't really _allow_ herself to think of Jim in _that_ way.

Future Jim sweeps around the car and to her side. He presses a gentle kiss to her temple and grins widely at her.

"I'm still mad," she murmurs sternly, but her tone is light and laughter.

"You'll forgive me," he smirks.

"Go and get the presents."

"Yes, dear." They share an affectionate smile.

Pam feels herself blush._ Jim_?

Pam and the girl – her _daughter_ – made their way to the door. They knock, but twist the door open immediately after. Clearly, they're expected here.

"Nan," the girl calls.

Pam's heart swells with affection for this child that she doesn't know.

"Sweet Cecelia, is that you?" a voice responds as an older woman appears in the doorway.

She bustles the girl - Cecelia - into her arms with easy familiarity.

"Merry Christmas, Betsy," she hears herself grin and there is a shared kissing of cheeks above Cecelia's head.

"Merry Christmas, Pam," Betsy - Jim's mother she feels it safe to assume - echoes brightly.

Phillip and Jim fill the doorway, their arms laden with gifts.

"Hi mom," Jim kisses Betsy's cheek soundly.

"Cece and Dad are in trouble," Phillip announces gleefully in greeting.

"Oh," Betsy's eyebrows raise.

"Bring those presents in and you can tell Nan all about our misadventures this morning," Pam sighs laughingly.

"C'mon," Anna squeezes her hand. "They can't see us," she insists, dragging Pam inside before Betsy shuts the front door.

The presents are gently placed under the tree and coats are shrugged. An older man joins them and another round of greetings are exchanged.

"Can I now?" Phillip tugs on his mother's arm.

Future-Pam nods a brisk yes with humor shining in her eyes.

"Daddy and Cece are in _big_ trouble," he states seriously. Pam chews on her lip and she can tell that she's holding back a chuckle.

Jim rolls his eyes and shares a bright smile with Cece.

"What mischief have they been up to this time?" Betsy replies, matching little Phillip's serious tone.

"They," he pauses dramatically and shares a collective sigh with his mother, "they wrapped all their presents in mounds of Jell-O."

"Hey, don't look at me, it was Cece's idea," Jim shrugs. Cece winks at her father before raising her hand, Jim promptly meeting her in a fist bump.

"Mommy thought it was funny, even though she won't admit it," Cece smirks and it was Jim all over and Pam's heart swells at how much she loves this little stranger who is all Jim Halpert and _her_?

"Mommy didn't think the mess on the rug was funny though," Phillip pokes his tongue out at his sister.

Her future self kisses the little boy's head soundly. "Thank you for helping to clean up, Phil."

He preens under her attention. "You're welcome, Mommy."

"We helped too," Cece interjects.

Jim's father chuckles. Betsy eyes the presents that the boys had just carried in cautiously. Jim merely shrugs in response to her unspoken question.

Pam shakes her head. "Trust me I checked," she mutters dryly.

"What?" Cece looks from adult to adult.

"Nan is scared you gave her presents the Uncle Dwight special too."

Cece giggles brightly. "Don't worry, Nan."

Pam rises to her feet. "We baked and decorated some sugar cookies yesterday. Who wants a hot cocoa to go with them?"

She is met with unanimous nods and a chorus of yeses. A quick look to both children has them trailing her to the kitchen.

Pam was about to rise and follow them, but Anna grabs her arm and holds her steady. "Wait," she whispers and Pam's eyes float to Jim.

"How are you, son?" Betsy asks.

"Great," Jim enthuses. "I mean we've had our rough patches, but somehow it just keeps getting better."

Betsy smiles knowingly.

"I didn't think I could love her more than I did back when I was ridiculous and pining. And _then_ my heart expanded to love her even more when we started dating and I thought surely that was it. But it was the same when we got married and had Cece and then Phil. I loved her even more because she was a great wife and a great mom."

Jim blushes. "You get it, Mom. I don't know why I'm waxing poetic about my wife after all these years, but hey, it's Christmas and I'm feeling sentimental."

Betsy reaches for his hand gently. "Christmas has always been a special time for you both."

Jim smiles fondly. "And it turns me into an introspective mess."

"I'm sure Pam feels the same way."

"Oh trust me she _does_," Jim grins and has the decency look a little mortified at the twinkle in his eye that his mother _really doesn't_ need to see.

Betsy laughed heartily. "You kids," she shakes her head.

The children spilling back into the room with plates heaped high with cookies effectively shuts down the bordering on inappropriate conversation.

"This is my future?" Pam gapes at Anna and felt something strangely like acceptance settle deep in her bones.

"Well," her friend shrugs. "Maybe. It's up to you."

"What does that mean?" Pam gripes. Despite herself, she finds herself hoping that Anna would answer something simply in the affirmative instead of speaking in riddles.

"I'll show you," Anna sighs, reaching her hand out to Pam once again. She takes it reluctantly. She didn't want another future. She likes this one, with Jim and _warmth_ and sweet little Cecelia and Phillip.

Now that she knows what could be, she doesn't want a future without them.

This time she knows to expect the spinning and bright flash of light. She still feels somewhat disoriented, but at least she knows exactly where she is this time. It's her apartment with Roy. Their Christmas tree sat in the living room, it looks about the same as always.

Another future Pam appears in a bright Christmas sweater. She looks almost exactly the same as the Pam they've just seen. But there's something different and it isn't the way her hair is styled almost identical to the Pam of the present. It isn't the few telltale lines around her face, they're here too. It takes her a moment to process that it's her eyes, they look… duller somehow.

Anna groans as Roy lumbers into the room. "He has really let himself go," and she's not wrong. "Way to peak in high school," Anna mutters and glances at her nails, clearly disinterested.

He seems middle aged. There is a slight paunch circling his middle. His hair is reclining.

She shakes her shoulders and mentally reprimands herself for being so superficial. How future Roy looks doesn't matter. He was her... husband? She was assuming. _Surely_?

They love each other, they were childhood sweethearts. That had to count for something?

Future Pam smiles gently at Roy. "Merry Christmas," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Roy grunts in response.

"Coffee?" he demands.

She nods and leads him to the kitchen bench where a hot breakfast awaits him.

His eyes brighten. "Thanks Pammy, you're the best."

Her answering smile didn't quite reach her lifeless eyes.

"What year is this?" she asks Anna. "2019," she shrugs. "It's the same year I took you to in the Jim future."

"Oh."

She eyes the scene carefully. Two plates sit on the bench. Their apartment looks virtually the same. She looks the same. In fact, she's pretty sure that is the sweater she'd bought for Christmas the other day.

"Do we have kids?" She fears she knows the answer.

"Doesn't look like it," Anna frowns. "My guess, you asked but Roy wanted to keep putting it off, much like the whole wedding thing," she assesses sounding a whole lot older than her twelve years.

Pam gapes at her.

"Who doesn't want a wedding?" Anna pouts. "A giant party with _all the attention_. I wish I had a wedding," she crosses her arms sharply, a sure sigh that she is bordering on an _outburst_ (as her mother had called her more spirited moments).

They finish their breakfast in relative silence. Roy shoves his dirty plate across the counter and retreats to the den. As the television sounds to life, Pam cautiously calls, "don't forget, we have to leave for my mother's at 10am."

"I know, Pammy," Roy's sigh floats back into the room. There is a moment of silence, before, "do we have to go..." also wafts over to Pam.

Future Pam drops her head over the sink and shakes it slowly. "It's Christmas," she calls back. "We can't bail on Christmas."

"Fine. But do I have to go?" Roy hedges.

"Yes," Pam states harshly. "Yes, you have to come to Christmas lunch."

"God, Pammy. I'll go if I _have to_, you don't have to pick an argument over it."

"Can we go. Please," she turns to Anna. "I don't want to watch this anymore."

"It's a familiar scene," Anna answers sagely with the quirk of her brow.

"How do I fix it?" Pam pleads.

"How do you get the other future you mean?"

"Yes," Pam nods. "How do I..."

The room is starting to spin again, but this time Anna isn't clutching her hand.

"Make the right choice today," her friend's voice is echoey and tinny as she spins with the room that is beginning to fade.

There is that bright light again.

"Pam. Pam can you hear me?"

Her eyes open slowly.

"She's regaining consciousness," Dwight informs the office.

She ignores him, widening her eyes further still, to find warm brown eyes peering carefully into hers.

"Pam," Jim's tone is colored brightly with relief. He reluctantly untangles his hand from hers, but she manages a gentle squeeze of his fingers as he retreats.

"I'm fine," she croaks.

She attempts to sit, but Dwight pushes on her shoulders, keeping her still. "Dwight," she moans.

"Let her up," Jim glares at Dwight, before carefully helping her into a seated position.

Angela shoves a cool compress into her hands. "Here."

"Thanks," she murmurs before rising it to the lump at the back of her head. "Ugh."

"Pam's fine," Michael declares. "Back to the game!"

"Jim, can you help me to my desk?" and he has a hand under her shoulder coaxing her gently to her feet. "Oh, and my teapot," she murmurs.

She is met with an answering grin as he plucks it up from the floor.

She sits carefully on her chair. He pulls his own up beside her.

"This," he taps the teapot, "is an excellent choice, because it comes with bonus gifts." Behind his words she hears a soft giggle float through the air.

_The right choice_.

She pries the lid of the teapot open and is rewarded with an enthusiastic play by play from Jim as she reveals each item. Trinkets collected from their time together. There's a warmth that builds as she assesses her bonus gifts. Hot sauce. A golf pencil. The yearbook picture. A boggle timer. A mixtape.

How has she never noticed this before? She has feelings for Jim. And he's maybe a little in love with her? If she felt less for him, these items would have been trivial, meaningless. But they aren't, each one is laden with history and value and worth.

"It," he pauses and looks down at his feet, a steady blush painting the tips of his ears, "also comes with a card... " and he tugs a slightly worn around the edges envelope from his pocket and presses it into her hand.

Somehow she knows this is where it begins. She pictures future Jim telling his mother how important Christmas is to them and she's sure that this card holds all the answers as to how they get there.

She carefully eases the card from the envelope. As she reads a slow smile spreads across her face. "Jim," she murmurs. "I'm really glad I made the right choice." She dips her head to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

His hand rises to cup the cheek her lips have just met. He swings his gaze to her, eyes wide with shock. He looks at her, really looks at her and the façade he usually wears slips and she can see it _all_. Their future swims in those depths.

She takes a deep breath and plunges in. She twists the ring on her finger, pulling it off and slipping it into her pocket. "I have to sort some things out, but maybe, after Christmas…" she trails off, a little overwhelmed by the intensity reflected back at her in Jim's warm gaze.

"It's a date," he promises and grins widely at her.

"It's a date," she echoes and feels the life she wants slot into place.


End file.
